I Chose The Push Ups
In this four part series, Good Men Project columnist, Taylor García invites you to examine what you eat to better understand who you are and how you function
I cannot confirm or deny that I was the victim of fraternity hazing in college, nor can I confirm or deny that said hazing involved the consumption of disgusting foods.
It is said these foods may or may have not been a goulash of salad dressings, boiled eggs, cheeses, oils, beets, and other unsavory food stuffs found in a college cafeteria.
Hazing, or so they say, is a form of initiation. A means to prove oneself worthy in an established order so as to be accepted into said order.
This is what they say.
What I say is: I didn’t eat the stuff, okay. I just couldn’t. I’d gag and wince and have to pass it, therefore making it worse for the next guy. Just the sight of it made me sick.
Fast forward, and though I’m not being forced to eat what would be considered “uncomfortable” foods, I am now choosing them. Voluntarily. I’ve resorted to things like sardines for breakfast.
And when I say resorted, I don’t mean I chose to have sardines for breakfast. I mean I had to have sardines for breakfast. I essentially hazed myself with food.
Why?
Because I didn’t have much of a choice.
When my digestive system turned against me circa Spring 2020, when the world was beginning an interminable quarantine, I could no longer digest properly. A combination of stress eating, aging, and a lifetime of bad food choices tipped me over an edge. I was either going to reactively medicate with proton-pump inhibitors, antacids, corticosteroids, and sleep sitting up for the rest of my life, or I was going to drop to the ground and do the digestive equivalent of 1000 pushups.
I chose the push ups.
Immunological food sensitivity tests revealed I was reacting to quite literally everything. I first thought: “I can’t eat anything!” Eventually, I changed my mindset to: “Here’s what I can eat, and so I better start eating it (and liking it).”
Did I like eating spinach and sardines or breakfast? Did I like having a handful of raw almonds for snack, or a can of tuna and raw broccoli for dinner? No! It was torture. But what it did was revive my deteriorating digestive tract. In about eight months, I felt myself returning from the brink.
I learned that, in order to stay alive, I could no longer resort to comfort or convenience foods. I had to work much harder to find the products in the store or the items on the menu that would not inflame my system. And the funny thing was, those items were the things the rest of world avoids. Sardines, sauerkraut, duck fat, bone broth, anything deep green and purple, for example.
It was the foods that are considered flavorless or dense or unsavory that were a part of what I needed to start eating in order to regain my lost vitality.
This misadventure is how I learned that food is indeed medicine, and that if it tastes sinfully delicious, it’s bad for health. I had to relearn that what we eat, the amounts we eat, and how and when we eat them will set a course for, quite literally, the next ten minutes and the next ten years. I learned that incorporating what we thought was disgusting is necessary for the sake of missing nutrient exposure and quite simply, variety. I also learned the opposite, which is: those things we love because of their beguiling tastes and associated emotional anchors must be strictly regulated, if not removed entirely.
Several years later, I’m back in control of how, what, and when I eat, and I’m even more acutely aware of what the consequences are for all of it. Eat the lightly salted and peppered home-grilled chicken or the corndog and fries. Choose the burger from a fast food drive through, or make the equivalent at home. It’s all a matter of choices. This or that. This sometimes wins, and that sometimes wins.
What I aim for is more in the “This” column, as in, “this will help me, nourish me, feed me.” That won’t. As with anything in life, consistency is the key. Racking up points in the good column is like an accruing investment; deposit a little at a time, and over time, the account is full of healthy, vital resources. It may feel like hazing oneself in the beginning, but the reward is a body that thanks you.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Unsplash
